


Deep Purple

by Dexthecryptid (Godtie)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bruises, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, i guess??, im kind of blanking on what to tag this with honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7774372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Godtie/pseuds/Dexthecryptid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Au where you get bruises on a certain body part depending on how your mental health is doing</p><p>Ransom is used to getting bruises, and Holster is good at recognizing when he gets them. Ransom isn't so good at recognizing when Holster gets them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Purple

Ransom is used to getting the bruises. 

He has panic attacks and anxiety. The bruises from them start slowly, a few weeks before his finals. They slowly grow, spreading over his right arm. The skin becomes tender to touch and it aches slightly at practice and games. It hurts when he gets checked into the wall. But he’s used to it, he’s fine. And he’s lucky, at least for the first few weeks the bruises blend into his skin well enough. It’s only when he starts having panic attacks that they become a deep purple, covering his arm, creeping up on his hand.

But he’s fine. They fade pretty quickly after finals are over as he recovers. The people around him are used to watching them appear. His family is used to greeting him when he comes home with a healing arm, avoiding pressure on it until it returns to it’s usual color. And he has Holster, who has learned to not only read the signs of his anxiety, but identify the bruises before they show on his skin. 

Holster is softer to him then. His usually loud and booming voice is tones down to ease Ransom’s heart. Instead of slamming open the door and demanding they order Chinese food that night, he carefully leans against Ransom’s desk and asks what he wants to eat tonight, it’s on him. He keeps people away from Ransom as he has a panic attack under the table in the library and the bruise on his arm darkens. 

Holster is always there for him, helping him handle everything. He’s always the first to defend him if someone brings up his arm. Always the first to bring up his academic stats, pulling his GPA and lowest grades (a 96%, can you even say you’ve been anywhere NEAR that grade, Chad “My Last Initial Reflects My Average Grade” D.?), and lecturing the perpetrator on anxiety and panic attacks and the importance of giving the person who suffers from them the freedom and respect to be treated how they want when they’re experiencing them. (And yes, that INCLUDES not bringing up the stress bruises, CHAD.)

Ransom noticed when Holster starts only wearing t-shirts the end of their sophomore year, and that continues on into their senior. He keeps a t-shirt on at all times and hasn’t been showering after practice, instead waiting until he got back to the Haus. He starts to have a tick of pulling his collar closer to his neck, sometimes pressing on his shoulder for extended period of time. Ransom questions it a few times, but Holster brushes it off. Ransom trusts that if it was something Holster actually needed help with, he’d come to him. They were best friends. They didn’t keep anything from each other. He decides not to pry.

Ransom breaks that decision after a game.

It had been rough. The opposing team was brutal, checking them left and right. It got to the point where they took Bitty off the ice. He might have gotten better at dealing with checking, but with how hard the other team was going, they didn’t want to risk anything. Ransom decided to break it after Holster got checked, hard.

It was into the boards. A hard body check that drove Holster against the glass, shoulder first. Ransom knows Holster could handle something like that. But this time he let out a bone shattering wail that carries across the ice and drops, clutching his shoulder. And then he’s not moving, only breathing and clutching his shoulder and Ransom is stuck in once place on the ice because that shouldn’t be happening. Holster should be at least sitting up by now. He should be okay. Why isn’t he okay.

Holster can skate off the ice. He isn’t limping, but he’s still holding his shoulder. Ransom can see his slightly labored breathing like he’s in a lot of pain. Ransom manages to skate over to him as he’s skating off the ice but Holster won’t look at him and why won’t he look at him. 

Ransom is in for another five minutes before he’s pulled off, too distracted to play properly. He’s on the bench with his helmet and gloves off and head in his hands and why isn’t Holster back on the bench yet.

The coaches soon tell them they sent Holster home for rest. He’s okay, he just needs some time to recover. No, he isn’t seriously hurt. No, he did not have to be taken to the hospital. 

They loose the game. Ransom is quick in the locker room, stripping and throwing his stuff in his space. He’s pulling on his shirt as he’s leaving, not wanting to waste any time. He jogs back to the Haus and takes two steps at a time when he gets there. He doesn’t bother knocking on the attic door, thrusting it open with a question on his lips.

“Why didn’t you look at-“

He stops, the word “me” falling silent on his tongue as he sees the dark purple bruise covering Holster’s left shoulder. It’s big. It’s dark. It looks like it hurts. Ransom’s mouth goes dry and Holster looks over his good shoulder before looking forward again, leaning his face down into his hands.

“That’s not from the check.” Ransom states, staring. He sees Holster sigh. Ransom is pushed into motion again, stepping forward. “Adam why didn’t you say anything?”

Holster breaths before looking up at the wall. Why isn’t Holster looking at him. “It’s really not that bad, bro.” Holster replies, but they both know it’s strained. Ransom can almost feel his own bruises forming as his heart picks up in panic.

“That’s a fucking lie.” His breathing rises as he watches the bruise, watches Holster’s muscles move under it. He starts to feel nauseous and he remembers watching him get checked. “Did you hear the yell you let out when you got checked?” His voice begins to raise, but he can’t help it. He can’t take his eyes away from the purple/black stain on his best friend’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Holster winces and Ransom could see the center of the bruise darken. Holster, in his six foot four glory, looked small. He looked defeated. Ransom takes a step back, immediately regretting his tone. “Fuck, no, shit. Holster…” Ransom pauses. “Adam. Holtzy. I’m sorry. But please. Please talk to me about whatever is happening.”

Holster brings a hand up over his face to wipe it. He looks up at the ceiling and takes an audible breath. “It wouldn’t matter if I did, dude. It’s not something that can be fixed. It’s just something I need to deal with.”

Ransom swallows before stepping forward again. “Just tell me. Even if it can’t be fixed, talking about it might help.” He squats down next to Holster, placing a hand on his bicep. Beneath the bruise.

Holster still doesn’t look at him. “It’s…” He closes his eyes. He’s trying to hold back tears, and Ransom swallows. “It’s you, dude.”

Ransom nearly falls over. His eyes shoot back to the bruise. Because of him. Holster is in this kind of pain because of him. 

Holster finally looks at him and quickly sits up, reaching over to put his hand over Ransom’s. “No- Dude. No. That’s not what I meant- shit. No. Okay.” He breathes and swallows, and Ransom looks back to his face, and their eyes meet. Ransom can practically feel the fear washing off of Holster. “It’s not you, it’s me. Fuck, no, that sounds really stupid. It’s…” He sighs, looking up at the ceiling. Ransom can see his hands clenching in his peripheral before they meet eyes again. “I like you. I mean like, I love you. In more than a friend sense. And I have for a while. But I know how you feel about relationships, like, that you don’t wanna have anything super committed, and you have that thing going on with March, and it’s probably stupid for me to even want anything anyway since we’re on the same team and that could just get fucking messy and stupid. I mean shit dude, we live together. What would happen if it didn’t work out? We’d still have the rest of the year living together.”

Holster swallows again before looking away, but Ransom keeps staring. “Wait so…” He starts. Holster’s hand is still over his. “So you’ve been keeping that to yourself, and it’s caused this?” Holster nods, still not looking at him. Ransom brings a hand up to Holster’s face, pulling his face towards him.

“Okay, first of all, fuck you for not talking to me about this dude. Like, I get it, but we could have worked something out.” He watched Holster sag, eyes cast down. “Hey, no, I’m not done yet.” Holster looks back up and god, Ransom never wants to see those blue eyes so sad again. “I talked about not wanting to like, settle down with anyone because I needed to figure out my sexuality. Which you know. The thing I have with March is really, really casual. We’re more friends than anything, and it’s cool to hang out and fuck, but we talked about it and there’s really nothing more. Because...” He takes a breath, organizing his thoughts. “Because I also didn't want to settle down because no one really felt right?” Holster isn't looking any happier, so Ransom takes a breath. “No one really felt right. Because you already held that place in my life.”

Holster gives him a weak smile. “Yeah, Justin, I know.” Ransom’s heart skips. “We're best friends.” Oh. “Always there for each other, always have each other's back, till death do us part, blah blah blah. We made Shitty give us that best friend wedding, remember? Look,” Holster starts, shaking his head, “I won't be mad or upset if you just say you don't want to be with me in that way. I've already accepted that, already prepared myself for that. I'm fine with just staying your friend, bro. I just don't want to lose you from my life.”

Ransom watches Holster. He looks so vulnerable, not meeting his eye again. Ransom slips his hand out from under his and brings it up to Holster's cheek, turning his face towards him. “Dude, no. Shut up for a second, okay? Actually listen to me. I know I get wrapped up in my head, but this trumps every time I did that during finals, including last semester. Yeah, you're my best friend. But you're my best friend who I've thought about kissing, holding hands, getting our own place together and maybe a pet like, I don't know, a cat or a ferret or some shit. Like, yes, you're my best friend. But you're also so much more than that dude.” 

Holster stares at Ransom, who stares back. It lasts a solid half minute before Holster breaks the silence. “A fucking ferret dude? Those things reek.”

Ransom rolls his eyes and pushes Holster's face to the side, mock exasperated. “Seriously? I lay my heart on the table and you chirp my pet choices? They're like a perfect cross between a cat and a dog!”

“You're forgetting the rodent part.”

“Oh dude fuck off.”

Holster grins. “Nah. You love me.”

Ransom pauses and takes a breath. “Yeah, dude. I do. I really really do. I love you.”

Holster swallows. “I love you too, Justin.” 

They pause. 

“So like,” Holster starts again, shifting his position so he's properly facing Ransom. “You've thought about kissing me?”

“Adam, oh my god, if you're actually going to ask to kiss me I swear to god-”

They kiss. Stubble against stubble, lips against lips, heart against heart, and bro against bro. 

It's goofy, they smile and laugh into it, but it feels right. It feels like they should have been doing it all along, like it was right in front of them but too close for them to actually see it. 

In a week Holster's bruise has blossomed into a bittersweet reddish pink, and in two it's gone. Ransom still gets bruises on his right arm, but Holster is still there to recognize them and speak softly. Now he can kiss softly as well.

**Author's Note:**

> This au actually came about because I tend to get bruises on my legs that last a long time, and I haven't been doing so great this summer (and there's been an influx of bruises because I've been working so much). 
> 
> I do want to expand on this au by doing other pairings/characters at some point, but I'm not sure if/when that will happen. But if you're interested check in every once and a while, I'll probably make a series on here if I do!
> 
> Want to send me a prompt, talk about this fic, or chat with me in general? Find me at [Dexthecryptid](http://dexthecryptid.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


End file.
